


A Little Enthronement

by fascinationex



Series: transformers fics by fascinationex [14]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bottom Megatron, Face-Sitting, Immobility, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22490149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fascinationex/pseuds/fascinationex
Summary: “Mighty Lord Megatron. All alone… helpless… and at my mercy,” Starscream crooned, leaning in so close it would have been more natural for them to touch. Megatron could hear the way Starscream’s fans kicked on at the comment – probably contemplating what time he had, with Megatron immobilised, to inflict whatever humiliations he had planned for him. “I simply must remember to send Optimus Prime a thank-you note.”
Relationships: Megatron/Starscream
Series: transformers fics by fascinationex [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1311599
Comments: 15
Kudos: 107





	A Little Enthronement

Starscream _would_ sneak into the repair bay the very second it was declared off limits.

Megatron was supposed to be peacefully recovering from surgery to his motor relays, which had suffered damage during his last confrontation with Optimus Prime. He could not move, and had therefore ordered the whole area to be cleared out and abandoned for the duration of his recovery. The Constructicons had grumbled, but not very loudly. And not within easy hearing range of Megatron’s repair berth.

But now, it had been declared off limits for all of a joor and Starscream was down here, sticking his overclocked nosecone where it didn’t belong once more. Megatron could hear him muttering.

“What’s this?” Starscream said, in a tone of wary curiosity.

Of course – if Megatron _had_ been able to move, it was likely that he would have disciplined Starscream for showing up _specifically where he was told not to_. And no doubt Starscream would spread his hands and protest that surely such a command couldn’t apply to _him_. Not to Megatron’s _second in command –_

But that was not the situation, and now Megatron could hear the click-tap, click-tap rhythm of his feet, separate parts of his thrusters hitting the floor at slightly different intervals. In a crowd, seekers could seem to move very quietly – certainly Starscream could sneak around with the best of them as long as he could keep his vocaliser muted – but the vibration of the movement seemed powerful in the silent repair bay.

“Megatron,” he said, slowly, before he’d even come into Megatron’s view. The footsteps halted, and then, after a moment, started up again. They circled the repair berth upon which Megatron lay. He caught flashes of movement in the periphery of his optical view: the red edge of a white wing, the bright blue of a hand, a flicker of a yellow cockpit, all gleaming under the repair bay lighting.

His other sensors were better for proximity and alert, but they didn’t tell him anything about body language or expression. And, he thought, with mounting tension, as he saw one of Starscream’s blue hands reaching out for a data pad, proximity sensors would not tell him when Starscream was accessing his medical records.

When he finished reading the data pad, Starscream lowered it and turned to look right at Megatron, all caution gone. “Online and unable to move,” he said, optics bright and focused on Megatron’s prone form. “And left _all alone?_ ”

Megatron’s engine growled, low in his body. It was a threatening noise, a sound that would vibrate powerfully in Starscream’s carefully-calibrated flight sensors, and one that carried with it the implication of a certain level of power output.

Starscream’s wing twitched, but after a second, he only scoffed.

“I will _rip out your fuel pump_ ,” Megatron forced out. The words were a little slurred, but comprehensible. His vocaliser, optics and mouth hadn’t been taken out completely by the code that Hook had used – and which Megatron had allowed him to use, with much threatening and posturing – but it was work to get the words out. 

“Perhaps,” Starscream said, coming even closer, with a truly galling lack of concern. “But not,” he waved the data pad expressively, “for… what is it, an entire cycle?”

Megatron’s engine snarled again, so loud and heavy a growl that the walls seemed to vibrate with it. But he said nothing, for Starscream was right. It would be a short recovery, but it would feel very long.

“ _Mighty Lord Megatron_. All alone… helpless… and at my mercy,” Starscream crooned, leaning in so close it would have been more natural for them to touch. Megatron could hear the way Starscream’s fans kicked on at the comment – probably contemplating what time he had, with Megatron immobilised, to inflict whatever humiliations he had planned for him.

“I simply must remember to send Optimus Prime a thank-you note.”

With this ominous comment, he hoisted himself up onto the repair berth, then swung one sleek and polished thigh over Megatron’s chestplates. Starscream’s weight settled upon him, heavy and warm right over his fuel pump.

He was as polished and gleaming as ever, vain thing. His plating was waxed to a silky finish and so smooth there was nearly no friction when he wiggled comfortably upon his new throne.

Megatron glowered at him. Or, well. He couldn’t move, and his dim red optics were filled with golden-yellow canopy, and the edges of the stark Decepticon insignia on his own chest framed by Starscream’s thighs and the bright red plating of his interfacing panels. So it was not his face at which Megatron glowered, and he was still glowering when those panels whirred and transformed away, plating irising smoothly open to expose the delicate components below.

Starscream’s hand felt heavy upon Megatron’s helm. “Let us see if _Lord Megatron_ can still use his tongue.”

He was probably, Megatron realised, _very belatedly_ , not going to try to kill him right this very moment. 

Megatron glanced back at Starscream’s valve. It was already gleaming with a thin oily sheen. The lips, dark like his face, were already slightly swollen with the flush of diverted fuel. Behind them, he could see the soft glow of fitfully blinking nodes, dim and deeply buried in the inner lining. 

Apparently, having Megatron flat on his back and incapable of lifting a finger to defend himself was of significant interest to Starscream. 

If he could keep him distracted all cycle, then Megatron’s motor relays would be back in functional condition before Starscream could get any… more ambitious ideas.

Starscream did not bother to ask. He used his hand on Megatron’s head as leverage to lift himself up. His knees bit into Megatron’s shoulders. Megatron’s visual feed was entirely taken up by dark mesh, gleaming biolights and syrupy lubricants.

“Why is your helm so small when your shoulders are so large?” Starscream demanded, as though Megatron’s frame ought to have been better designed and his face crafted for the express purpose of cushioning Starscream's pretty valve. 

The outer mesh of his valve bumped into Megatron’s nose then. He could feel the sweet little knot of his anterior node right there, buffered only minimally by the soft mesh. Starscream could feel it too, if the way he grunted and jolted was any indication. The slick lubricants he was leaking— _leaking_ , although Megatron had not even touched him—smeared across Megatron's mouth without warning.

Megatron let his engine growl again, that low vibrating sound of fury and threat. “ _Starscream_ ,” he snarled. 

The vibrations of his snarling engine seemed to have precisely the opposite effect to the one he had intended. Starscream made a high, shocked, excited noise and ground his valve down onto Megatron’s face. 

It didn’t matter that the growling and snarling were noises of pure rage, Megatron realised: Starscream was going to use him while he was helpless here. Whether he participated voluntarily or not, it seemed, Starscream would rub his valve on his face until he overloaded, hard, messily, and all over Megatron’s mouth and nose. Megatron could threaten to put him in his place all he liked. Starscream would use his face like a toy anyway, and he would not be able to stop him. 

And he knew Starscream. One overload wouldn’t satisfy him.

Megatron went abruptly hot. His fuel pump thumped powerfully beneath his laser core. The feeling expanded from his fuel tank outward, until he could feel it in his helm and his face plates, energon flushing through his whole frame.

His interfacing system startled online with a little rush of nervous pleasure, and the rumble of of his engine changed tone.

Above him, Starscream laughed, delighted, smug and grating. (And just a little staticky, voice gone all thick and soft with interference. Rerouting all your power to your interfacing systems would do that.)

Megatron ignored it. 

With some effort, he found he _could_ still move his tongue after all. 

Starscream's gloating laughter cut right to static and his fingers scraped on Megatron's helm. His thighs, bracketing him, creaked with the sudden tension of their cables, loud in Megatron’s audio pickup. 

Megatron tried again, a shaky lengthways lick that collected lubricants on his tongue and painted them thickly over Starscream's anterior node.

The effort was worth it. Starscream's helm fell back. He groaned softly. His valve, melting hot and flooded with sweet thick lubricants, clenched powerfully against Megatron's lips.

Megatron set to work with a will, even as Starscream clutched his head and tensed his thighs, obscuring everything from Megatron's senses, except for the heady smell and taste and feeling of his valve.

There was, after all, an awful lot of time still left in the cycle...

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked something about this fic you are very welcome to let me know in a comment (if you prefer to comment). Otherwise have a good night. :)


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